Blaine Gets Detention
by lovedove1345
Summary: What happens when Blaine's dad finds out he gets detention after trying to steal back Kurt Puppet. 5th Season. Warning: Contains spanking.


Blaine and the Detention

 _Damn._

Blaine sat outside in his car, gripping the steering wheel. The clock on the dash stated that it was 10:45pm. His parents told him to be home by 11, thinking he was out with Sam.

 _Guess it's time to get this show on the road. Really can't afford to be in any more trouble tonight._

He was generally a good kid. Straight A's, show choir superstar, every parents dream. Well. Almost. Tonight was a different story. How could he be so stupid? All he had wanted was to steal the Kurt puppet back from Principal Sylvester. He almost had, too. How was he supposed to know she'd be there waiting for him? And now he was in detention for the rest of the week. He wouldn't be able to make it to New York to see Kurt.

 _That's sort of the least of my problems right now,_ he thought to himself. Principal Sue had sent him out of the office with, "Go feel shame." He was going to be feeling a lot more than that when his dad found out.

He pulled into the driveway, turning off the car, running through ways to tell his dad what had happened. They all seemed stupider than the last.

"Well, see, I made this puppet in arts and crafts…"

"I sort of broke into the principal's office to…."

"I thought if I made a fake Kurt that…"

He couldn't put it off any longer. He slowly got out of the car, shutting the door quietly and walking up the front steps. He heard the sound of a basketball game coming from the living room. He went and stood in the doorway.

Mr. Anderson looked up from the couch and saw his son.

"Have fun tonight, Blaine?"

Blaine looked down and started rubbing a hole in the carpet with his toe.

Mr. Anderson, who had immediately returned his gaze to the TV screen, looked over at his lack of response. He studied his son. He was small (he took after his mother that way) but his features were becoming more like a man's every day. Except now they had arranged themselves into a pained, guilty expression. Blaine was never good at hiding guilt.

"What's up, son?"

Blaine looked up at him, worry etched into every line of his face.

"Dad—I…."

Mr. Anderson waited. When it didn't appear that any more words were going to follow, he prompted him.

"You what, Blaine?"

Blaine sighed heavily, and tears began to form in his light brown eyes.

"I'm in trouble."

Mr. Anderson stiffened. "What happened? What did you do? Did you and that Sam kid do something illegal, because I swear to God, Blaine Anderson…"

"No. No…Sam…Sam had nothing to do with it."

"This doesn't instill any more confidence in me, son. Spit it out. What did you do?"

"I wasn't with Sam, Dad. I sort of went to the school tonight. I needed something I had…left in there."

Mr. Anderson's eyebrows knotted together. He was confused.

"What, like a book or something? Homework?"

"Not…exactly. The principal had taken something from me today and put it in her office, but I really wanted it back, so I went to go get it."

Mr. Anderson got to his feet. Blaine backed away automatically, fear in his eyes.

"So, let me get this straight. Something was confiscated from you, and you chose to deliberately go over the head of your principal, break into the school, and steal it back. What is it? Some kind of weapon? Did you bring drugs to school?"

"Dad, no, it's nothing like that! It was just…a puppet."

Mr. Anderson stopped. "A puppet? What is that? Some kind of euphemism?"

"No, no…an actual puppet. It's…it's stupid, please don't make me explain THAT part."

Mr. Anderson breathed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose. "What is your punishment for this. Well, I mean…what is your _school_ punishment," he added.

Blaine gulped. _This sucks._ "A we—weeks worth of detention, sir."

Mr. Anderson began turning red. "I can't look at you right now, Blaine. Get up to your room. I'll be up in a while."

Blaine blanched, but backed away from his father and padded up the stairs to his bedroom, throwing himself face down on the bed. He was terrified. He was certainly going to be in a world of pain soon, and then on top of that he would have to call Kurt and get a tongue lashing almost equal to the real one he was about to receive. All the day's events began to catch up to him, and his over-exhausted body reacted of its own accord. He was asleep in seconds.

Mr. Anderson had been pacing up and down the living room. Blaine was generally a well-behaved child, but ever since high school he had been acting out more and more. Getting drunk at a bar underage, staggering in at 2 am, having walked home the whole way. That wasn't the first time he had been drunk, either. Not to mention skipping school, getting into fights with his old schoolmates…the list went on. This behavior had to be addressed.

When he had calmed himself down enough, Mr. Anderson trekked up the stairs to Blaine's room. The door was slightly cracked, and he knocked twice before entering. Blaine was…asleep.

He paused for a moment. He looked so little lying there, curled up on his side. He softened. He wanted nothing more than to just turn around and leave him be for the night, and deal with this in the morning. But Blaine needed to be punished. He knew that. He crossed to the bed and shook him awake.

Blaine sat up and blinked rapidly. He looked over at his father and suddenly remembered what was about to happen. His eyes filled with tears again, that he hastily tried to wipe away.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I'm really sorry."

Mr. Anderson looked at his youngest son. There would be time for comfort in a minute.

"Well," he said, "you're going to be."

He crossed to Blaine's closet and reached inside. There were at least two dozen belts in here. _Jesus. My kid has so many clothes._ He settled for a plain, leather one. Blaine watched him from his seat on the bed. When he turned around, Blaine was looking at him with sad eyes. It broke his heart.

"Ok, son. Turn over."

"Dad, please?" Blaine whined softly.

"Nuh-uh. None of that. Turn around. Lie down."

Blaine slowly turned around and bent over his bed, burying his face in his arms, bracing himself. He heard the _whish_ of the belt and then felt the horrible sting it left as soon as it made contact. He sucked in air through his teeth, and tried to prepare himself for the next one.

 _CRACK._ "Ahhh…"

 _CRACK._

 _CRACK._ "Daaaad…."

 _CRACK._

 _CRACK._ "I'm sorry please I'm sorry!"

The belt descended 20 more times. Blaine was sobbing by the end. He heard his father hang it back up in his closet.

Mr. Anderson approached the bed, where his son had still not moved. He sat down on the end, and began rubbing circles in Blaine's back. He was shaking, trying to regain some composure. He ran his fingers through his son's thick, dark curls. Blaine slowly turned over and curled up, putting his head in his father's lap, allowing him to rub his shoulders and hair. The shudders eventually stopped, and his breathing evened out.

"I'm sorry we had to do that, son."

"I'm sorry, dad."

"I hate to do that. You know that, right?"

Blaine nodded silently.

"Ok. It's time for you to get some sleep. He helped Blaine stand and then pulled back his blankets for him. Blaine climbed in and allowed his father to tuck the sheets around his shoulders, snuggling further into the blankets. Mr. Anderson pat Blaine on the head one last time, before turning out the light and closing the door.

 _Teenagers,_ he thought, as he went back downstairs.


End file.
